


Mambo Gelato

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fluff, For Once There's No Wyatt Bisexuality Crisis, Human Disaster Garcia Flynn, M/M, Multi, No Angst, Pregnancy, Slow Burn, Teenage Iris Flynn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: As he's cooking dinner, Garcia Flynn suddenly gets an unexpected visitor.[Continued upon request; previously titled 'Sustenance'.]





	1. Sustenance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OldShrewsburyian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldShrewsburyian/gifts).



> This was based on a Reddit post by fluffychicken45.

Garcia Flynn hummed along with the radio as he chopped a tomato into chunks. The scents of garlic, onion and bay leaf wafted through the air, filling the small kitchen. A gentle nudge against his back alerted him of the presence of another person in the room.

“Hello darling,” he greeted her, bending down to kiss her cheek. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” Iris Flynn replied as she slipped between the countertop and her father's chest to steal a piece of prosciutto from the stock pot. 

“Hey!” Garcia called out, lightly tapping her hand with the back of his knife. “How did rehearsal go?”

“I got promoted from  _ citizen 3  _ to  _ citizen 1 _ , so there's that. I'm still trying to convince the director to let me play  _ Jeanne Valjean _ .” Iris sighed. “But he said it's too avant-garde.” Rolling her eyes, she walked over to the sink to wash her hands. “Are you working tonight?”

“Nope.” Flynn added the sauteed onion, garlic, tomato and paprika to the soup. “It's just you, me and  _ The Great British Bake Off. _ ” Iris grinned.

“And soup?”

“And soup.”

 

Just as Garcia was serving the sweet corn soup into bowls, a knock sounded at the front door.

“Iris? Would you please get that?” he called out towards the hallway, but she shouted back: “I'm changing!” Shaking his head, Flynn grabbed a tea towel to wipe his hands on, and walked towards the door. Looking through the peephole, he saw a nervous face. He opened the door, to be confronted with his very, very,  _ very  _ pregnant neighbour. They hadn't really spoken much ever since she and her husband moved in a few months ago, but he knew one thing: they were both gorgeous people. Who may or may not had showed up in his dreams more than once.

“Can I help you?” he asked. The woman smiled anxiously, shifting her weight from one foot onto the other. In the quietest voice imaginable, she began: “Hi, I'm Lucy and… The smells of whatever you've been cooking have been drifting into our apartment for the past days, and…”

“I am  _ so  _ sorry!” Garcia replied. “Would it help if I closed the window?” He could hit himself in the head over this. He'd had a pregnant wife before, with hyperemesis gravidarum. He should have been more considerate, he…

“No!” Lucy replied. “No,” she repeated, blushing. “I was just wondering if...you had even just a little bit extra? I really like the smell.” Garcia stared at her, until Iris cleared her throat behind him, now having changed from her school uniform into pyjama pants and a long tee shirt. 

“What my charming father would like to reply once he regains his ability to speak,” she commented, gently pushing him to the side to reveal a bowl of  _ Istarska maneštra  _ already in her hands. “Do you eat pork?”

“Yes, I do,” Lucy confirmed, accepting the offering from the fourteen-year-old with another shy smile. “Thank you, so much. I am so sorry for bothering you. I'd just never smelt anything like this before.”

“It's Croatian,” Garcia managed to blurt out. “Would you like some for your husband as well?” Lucy shook her head.

“He's working,” she replied. “Thank you, though. Could I…” She hesitated. “Could I invite you over for wine sometime?” Glancing at her swollen abdomen, she laughed and added: “Well, for you and Wyatt at the very least.”

“He'd love to!” Iris answered for him. “Tomorrow?”

“It's a date!” Lucy responded, immediately freezing at her own announcement. “I'll just...go back home now. Thank you, again.” 

Garcia and Iris watched her walk down the hallway. He couldn't help but compare her slight waddling gait to a small penguin, happy with her successful hunt.

“You've got a date!” Iris squealed the moment he closed the front door.

“They're _ married _ . To each other,” he replied, ushering her back into the living room.

“So? You've all got two hands, right?”


	2. Cheers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame OldShrewsburyian for this continuation. ;)

"That is  _ not  _ what you're wearing," Iris announced, grabbing the hem of Garcia's sweater. "You're not wearing all-black tonight." She continued grumbling: " _ Muškarci nemaju modnog smisla, prokletstvo.. _ ."

"Language!" Garcia protested.

"Croatian!" she replied, grinning. Walking over to his closet, Iris pulled a light blue dress shirt off of its hanger and threw it into his general direction. Flynn chuckled, pulling the apparently-offending turtleneck over his head and exchanging it for the suggested shirt. 

"Better?" he asked, looking into the mirror to straighten out the collar.

"Much," his daughter answered. He knew that look in her eyes. 

" _ Mališa _ , what's wrong?" Garcia asked her, lowering his voice to a gentle rumble. Iris shrugged, and he guided her to sit down next to him at the foot of the bed. 

"I just really want tonight to work out," she whispered quietly, leaning against his side. He pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin as she continued: "You haven't hung out with anyone ever since  _ mama _ ...you know." She sighed. He hummed in response. As much as he hated to admit it, his daughter was probably right. The only adults he interacted with on a regular basis were his employees, and only at work. Jiya, Iris' old babysitter who lived two floors down swung by every other week in what she liked to call 'keeping up with the Flynns', but he saw her more as a daughter than anything else. Lorena had been the social butterfly, not him.

"I'll be on my best behaviour," he promised the girl currently trying not to cry as she hid her face against his neck. His skin was getting damp. 

"I'm messing up your shirt," Iris mumbled. 

"That's okay," he replied. "I have more shirts."

 

Half an hour later, now in a burgundy dress shirt, Garcia was standing in front of his neighbours' apartment door. The sign next to the door read  _ Lucy & Wyatt.  _ They had the apartment at the end of the corridor, and there was a potted peace lily standing in the corner. Raising his hand to the door, he knocked twice. Footsteps approached on the other side and it swung open, revealing Wyatt.

"Hi, Flynn, right?" When they'd moved in, Iris and Jiya had made him introduce himself, and he'd never gotten past his surname. It was what most people called him anyway, except for his mother and his brother.

"Yeah," he confirmed, letting the younger man lead him into the apartment. It was the mirror image of his and Iris', though it was decorated in soft pastels, whites and greys instead of his darker colour scheme. It reminded him of an IKEA model home. 

"Hi!" Lucy called out, walking in from the kitchen. "Thanks so much for coming over!" She was carrying a bottle of red wine -- merlot, upon closer inspection of the label -- and two glasses, and handed them to Wyatt so she could greet Garcia. "Thank you so much, once again, for yesterday. I don't know what came over me." She blushed, gazing at the floor. Garcia ducked his head so he could look her in the eye just a little better and replied: "It's fine, really. I'd made more than enough to share."

 

As the evening went by, Garcia began to relax. He learnt that Wyatt was an ex-soldier who now worked for Homeland Security, and that Lucy was a history professor at Stanford. He'd apparently misjudged how far along she was; she was only in her fourth month, but twins were causing her to show quite a lot. She had commented on her size, but both Garcia and Wyatt had immediately reassured her that she was absolutely gorgeous. It probably wasn't his place to tell her. Neither of the two had seemed to mind though. 

He probably shouldn't get his hopes up. They were two people obviously absolutely devoted to each other. 

 

"I should probably be heading back home," Garcia commented as he glanced at his watch. It was approaching midnight. 

"Okay," Lucy replied, getting up from where she was sitting. "We'll see you out then." The three made their way over to the small entryway and opened the door. Garcia could hear his promise to Iris in his mind -- be on his best behaviour. 

"Thank you for having me," he told Lucy and Wyatt as they all stood in the corridor, with a genuine warmth to his voice. They were great people, and he'd definitely enjoyed himself. 

"Thank  _ you _ for coming over," Lucy responded. Garcia reached out to shake Wyatt's hand again, but the younger man suddenly stepped forward and pressed his lips to Garcia's cheek.

"Wyatt, your wife is right there, and you've been drinking," Garcia warned gently.

"I haven't," Lucy replied instead. She walked up to him, got onto her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Goodnight, Flynn." 


	3. Care

Lucy was wiping down the kitchen while Wyatt loaded their breakfast plates into the dishwasher, when someone suddenly knocked at their door.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Wyatt asked, shutting the appliance with a swift shove. Lucy shook her head. 

"No, I was even thinking we could stay in together today on my day off." Wyatt scowled at the disturbance before walking over to the door and flinging it open, revealing...one very frazzled-looking Flynn.

"Everything alright?" the younger man asked. Ever since both he and Lucy had kissed Flynn, he'd gone back to his usual behaviour of being more reclusive than Dracula. How he had managed to produce a child as outgoing as Iris was beyond Wyatt.

"Iris woke up with a stomach bug; Jiya is in Lebanon for the week and I have to go to work."

"Say no more," Lucy called out from the kitchen. "We can head over to yours or she can stay here." 

"Are you sure?" Flynn asked, shifting his weight onto his other foot. "I don't want to inconvenience you." Wyatt smiled at him.

"It's no problem," he confirmed. 

 

Flynn's apartment, Wyatt realised, though structurally a mirrored copy of his and Lucy's, was the complete opposite of their home. With all the darker colours, plants and warm wood tones, he was expecting an Italian grandmother to walk up to him at any moment, berating him for not taking his shoes off or something. As he stepped further into the home, scents of ginger and lemon filled his senses. A quick glance into the kitchen revealed a pot of tea responsible for the smell, along with a note that read:  _ Feel free to use anything you need. Garcia.  _

"Hey Iris?" he asked, approaching the teenager buried under multiple blankets. "Who's Garcia?" A ruffled head popped up from underneath fleece and replied: "My dad? Duh?" Wyatt didn't have to look at Lucy to know she was mentally face-palming in the background. 

_ Garcia _ , huh. It fit him.

 

The day went by quickly. Iris, as it turned out, really only wanted to curl up on the couch and sleep, which was perfectly fine by both Wyatt and Lucy. He watched TV and sketched a bit while Lucy sat at the table, going through her editor's corrections on her newest book. Just as Wyatt selected the second season of  _ Desperate Housewives  _ \-- it was a classic, thank you very much -- the intercom rang. 

"Hello?" Lucy asked after she'd walked over, holding the wired phone up to her ear.

"Um, hi." The voice at the other end sounded young, and the video feed revealed an unsure-looking kid of Iris' age. "My name is Charlie Nacar. Is Iris Flynn home? I've got her homework."

"Come on up!" Lucy replied, allowing Charlie access downstairs and moving-slash-waddling towards the front door.

"Who is it?" Wyatt called out.

"A Charlie Nacar," Lucy replied. Iris suddenly sat upright. 

"Did you just say  _ Charlie _ ?" When Wyatt nodded, her face turned as white as a sheet. "They can't see me like this!" She bolted off of the couch, towards her bedroom. Shaking his head, Wyatt paused the DVD and followed her, telling Lucy: "Try to distract them! We're having  a teenage girl crisis!"

 

When Charlie arrived at the door after they'd exited the elevator, they shot Lucy a confused look.

"Hi Charlie," Lucy announced, "I'm Lucy, Iris' neighbour. My husband Wyatt and I are hanging out with Iris until her dad gets back from work." 

"Oh, that explains," Charlie replied, visibly relieved. Of course, Lucy figured, Iris didn't have a mom. It would be strange for her classmate to suddenly see an unknown woman in her home. 

"Would you like to come in?" Lucy asked. "Tea?"

 

In the meantime, Wyatt was watching Iris run through her bedroom like a teen hurricane. 

"Whoah!" he told her, stretching his arms out so he could grab her shoulders. "You're in no shape to be panicking. Now sit." After a moment of silence, he added: "Please?" Iris nodded and let herself drop onto her bed. Wyatt quickly scavenged the room, finding a hairbrush, hair elastics and some makeup wipes. That would have to do.

"Are you Queer-Eye-ing me?" Iris asked when he lifted the brush to her hair. Laughing, he replied: "Maybe."

 

Charlie was telling Lucy about their day at school over tea and chocolate-chip cookies when Wyatt and Iris entered the living room again. Iris' hair was in a French braid, and her face looked washed. A clean, ironed sweater she had pulled on over her pyjamas completed the look.

"Hey," Charlie greeted her, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine!" Iris lied. Behind her, Wyatt was supporting her back so she wouldn't fall over and amusedly rolling his eyes.

"We've got a humongous project to do for History. I told Mrs Baker I'd partner up with you, if that's okay?" Charlie continued, oblivious to Wyatt's actions. "I had to pick a topic from a hat, and we ended up with the Stonewall Riots." Lucy visibly perked up at that. "But I'm having trouble finding good, objective resources so far." Wyatt chuckled.

"You're in good company, kid," he commented.

 

When Flynn got home from work, carrying five portions of dinner instead of four, per Wyatt's vague text, Lucy, Charlie and Iris were bent over the kitchen table, which was covered in books that must had been dragged over from his neighbours' place. Wyatt was sitting nearby, neatly arranging the notes that the three were handing to him. 

"Hey dad!" Iris greeted him. "Lucy and Wyatt are helping me and Charlie do our history project," she explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for one's neighbours to be researching what looked to be LGBTQ history with one's daughter and her crush. Wyatt smiled at him and got up, taking the food from him and offering him tea.

Maybe it was normal indeed. And if it wasn't, he didn't mind.


	4. Truffles and Quail - Part 1

“So,” Jiya announced as she deposited a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, “why did you two need our advice?” Iris sighed and waited for Rufus and Charlie to finish deciding which movie to watch. Jiya and she had lost this week’s bet, so they were being forced to watch Star Wars by the other two. When the opening credits were rolling and they were all seated on Jiya’s small couch, she replied: “My dad is a disaster.”

“Obviously,” Jiya concurred. 

“He’s fallen head over heels for Wyatt and Lucy, but he’s failing to see that they like him as well.”

“Are you sure about that?” Rufus asked, adding: “They’re married. To each other.”

“They both kissed Flynn,” Jiya interjected. “Lucy told me so herself.” Rufus nearly choked on his soda, and needed Charlie to smack his back a few times before he could reply.

“I never thought I’d see the day Wyatt understood his own sexuality,” he eventually responded.

“However,” Charlie added, “at this rate, Mr Flynn might reciprocate those actions once the twins turn 30.” They grabbed a handful of popcorn, offering half to Iris.

“Do you guys have any suggestions?” Jiya asked.

“Other than locking them in a room together? No, not really.”

 

As it turned out, the opportunity would present itself fairly quickly. The following afternoon, Iris dropped her volleyball in the hallway, and it ended up in front of Lucy and Wyatt’s door. The distinct smell of something burning wafted into the corridor. Iris immediately began knocking on the door until Lucy finally opened up, a cloud of smoke behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” the teenager asked, waving a hand in front of her face so she could see Lucy’s more clearly. Lucy just let out a soft sob. Shaking her head, Iris grabbed Lucy’s hand and dragged her towards her own home, interrogating her on what had happened while they shuffled over there.

 

“Iris?” Garcia called out as more than one pair of feet entered the apartment. 

“And Lucy!” Iris replied. Her dad came walking into the living room with a confused look on his face. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. Lucy seemed so small and sad as she held onto Iris’ arm with a death grip that he wanted to take her to bed and stand guard outside the room until she felt better.

... _ where had that suddenly come from?  _

“Her mother has decided to have the Preston-Cahill family reunion at her and Wyatt’s tonight, and she just accidentally burnt dinner. So now we’re panicking.” His daughter shot him a look, one that her mother had also been fantastically talented at.

“Say no more,” Garcia told both of them in the softest voice he could muster. “I’ll swing by the store, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” Lucy asked. “You don’t have to do this. I can always just call my mom.”

“I’m certain.” 

 

Two hours later, Jiya was setting the table while Garcia put the finishing touches on the three-course dinner. With a more-than-entirely-necessary amount of ruckus, Wyatt entered the apartment, flanked by two young women.

"Jiya?" he asked, confusion dripping off of his face. "Where's Lucy? Is she okay?"

"She's next-door," Jiya replied.

"But then who's currently cooking?"

"I am," Garcia announced, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. One of the women walked up to him and extended her hand.

"Hi. Jessica. Wyatt's ex-wife and currently dating his sister-in-law." The other woman waved at him.

"I'm Amy, Lucy's sister." When Garcia didn't immediately respond, Jiya filled in for him: "Flynn. Neighbour." Jessica eyed him up and down before commenting: "... _ right _ ."

Amy's phone jingled, and she grabbed it from her pocket. Her eyes went wide as she read the notification. 

"Mom's here!"


	5. Truffles and Quail - Part 2

Carol Preston sure was...something, Garcia realised as he watched Lucy welcome the new arrivals to her home. The matriarch, as Jessica had quickly explained to him in hushed murmurs in the kitchen, was judgemental, high-maintenance, and, well, toxic. Normally, the annual reunion took place at Carol's freestanding home, but since she was in the middle of renovations, Lucy had been the chosen one. How the woman had managed to produce Lucy and Amy was beyond everyone. 

"Who's that?" Iris asked, nodding her head towards the rest of the people who had just walked in, filling the modestly-sized apartment to the brim.

"That's Mr Cahill, Lucy's father," Amy replied. "He has a first name, but only use it if you have a death wish. The weasley guy behind him is his adoptive son, Nicholas, and the redhead is Emma."

"And Emma is..?" Garcia asked.

"She's just Emma." 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Garcia was doing his best to restrain two furious young women in the kitchen while Carol, Nicholas and Cahill discussed the position of Muslim women in modern society. Jiya was hissing in Arabic on his left while Iris was uttering Croatian terms he hoped she hadn't learnt from him on his right. A quick glance into the living room told him that Jessica was dealing with a similar issue when it came to Amy, while Lucy had mentally checked out and Wyatt was trying to change the subject. 

"So that's why I am convinced we should implement the Danish and Dutch systems," Cahill commented. 

Wyatt's gaze connected with Garcia's through the open kitchen door. He mouthed: " _ Help _ ." Sighing, Garcia nodded. Turning towards Jiya and Iris, he told them: "Get out of here. Go cool off; play some video games or something. I've got this." He didn't have to say that twice. The girls were gone within ten seconds. When Wyatt looked at him again, Garcia flung a dish towel over his shoulder and winked. The cavalry's here. Grabbing a new bottle of wine, he walked over to the table and began refilling Carol's glass while asking her: "Do you know the story behind this particular dish? It's part of Croatian  _ history _ ." Carol peaked up at the final word.

"Do tell!" As Garcia began to explain his favourite Dalmatian legend, Wyatt visibly relaxed. Crisis averted.

 

When a semi-drunk Carol and definitely-drunk Nicholas had been escorted away -- Garcia already felt extremely sorry for the poor hotel staff who would be dealing with them tonight -- and Jessica and Amy had taken their refuge in an AirBnB down the street, Garcia found himself in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. Two pairs of footsteps approached him. Turning around, he was met with his neighbours' grateful faces.

"Thank you for tonight," Wyatt commented solemnly. "We couldn't have done this without you."

"It's nothing," Garcia replied. "It's what you do for friends."

"Friends, huh?" Lucy asked quietly, absentmindedly rubbing her swollen abdomen.  _ Was there something wrong? _

"I may be completely out of line here, but…" Wyatt began. He mumbled something before stepping forward and pressing his lips against Garcia's. 

"Wyatt," Garcia stammered. "Your wife is right there." Lucy smiled, and grasped both of their hands.

She kissed both of them.

"Yes, I am."


	6. Epilogue

The first thing that registered in Lucy's mind was the smell of fresh mint tea. The second was the warm body against her back. The third was the other warm body over which she was apparently draped. The fourth was the playful argument Wyatt and Flynn were having about whether the correct number in the sudoku they were solving was a two or an eight. Opening her eyes, Lucy smiled, kissing first Flynn, then Wyatt. 

"Good morning," Wyatt told her, smiling back at her.

"How did you sleep?" Flynn asked, and he poured her a cup of tea from the thermos on the nightstand.

"Like a baby," Lucy responded, watching as Flynn leaned over to kiss Wyatt. Staring at the newspaper that was now in her lap, she added: "And you're both wrong. It's a three." Wyatt glanced at both of them, and commented: "Figures." Lucy couldn't help but let out the most deliriously happy giggle she had experienced in years.

 

_ A few months later _

 

"Iris?" 

"In here!" Iris called out into the hallway, nudging the door to her room open a little further. Within a few seconds, Wyatt entered, looking more frazzled than she had ever seen him look.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, taping up the final box containing her belongings. 

"I'm going to have to call Jiya and ask her if she can oversee the movers," Wyatt replied. "I have to take Lucy to the hospital." Before Iris could inquire any further, Lucy appeared behind him, and she laughed nervously at Iris.

"Can you call your dad for us, please, and ask him to meet us at the hospital? Tell him my water broke." Lucy grabbed Wyatt's hand, holding on tightly. Iris jumped up.

"Oh my God, of course!" She ran over to Lucy and kissed her cheek. "I'll manage, just go!"

As they walked out of the Flynn's apartment, the last thing Lucy told Iris was: "You're going to be a big sister!" Iris slammed to a stop as if she'd hit an invisible wall.

"Holy shit, I am!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me until the end!!


End file.
